


Splicing the Warp

by Syntaniel



Series: What Fate Sees [4]
Category: The Musketeers (2014), d'Artagnan Romances (Three Musketeers Series) - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 10:25:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17681678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syntaniel/pseuds/Syntaniel
Summary: The Inseparables are back together again, as it should be. But someone or something is determined to come between them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So now that Romani d'Artagnan's long road is done, I come back to this series because the ideas for this one won't leave me.

The air was bright with the crispness of fall and the Musketeers were out in force in the yard to enjoy the golden sun. Walking away from the new recruits he'd been training, Athos wasn't quite sure what d'Artagnan and Porthos were doing, but it seemed to involve taking increasingly ridiculous trick shots from hiding places around the yard and guessing where the other was hiding. 

 

It took more effort than it should have for him to muster up a scowl as he leaned on the post next to Aramis. "I thought you were supposed to be supervising?"

 

The marksman, nearly cackling in his glee, was undaunted by the dry comment. But then, if anyone could see through him, it was these men. "Ah Athos," Aramis grinned, unrepentant. "I am supervising." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw d'Artagnan sneaking through the shadows, closing in on the barrels Porthos had been hiding behind and he slyly took a shot of his own just past their heads, throwing the younger man off track. 

 

Athos shook his head but couldn't quite hide the quirk of a smile, "You're bedeviling both of them." 

 

"Pah," Aramis twirled his harbequois before lazily beginning to reload it. "It's good for them." 

 

The sun glinted off the trigger plate and Athos could see d'Artagnan's eyes narrow from across the yard. A quick shout brought Porthos' attention as well and then both men were heading their way. 

 

With an audible swallow, Aramis popped off the fence, the gun disappearing into his tunic, as he dodged behind Athos. The movement drew d'Artagnan's eyes to him and the younger man grinned as he came into the sunlight. The late summer sun had bronzed his skin to an olive gold and he brushed his hands through hair that was finally grown back out to its proper length. The movement slicked his sweat dampened hair against his head and he bounded up to Athos with a laugh as Porthos took off after Aramis. The courtyard rang with their happiness as d'Artagnan bumped Athos' shoulder and then joined in the chase himself as they gloried in the last of the bright days of fall.

 

From the darkness of the stables by the western gate, glittering eyes watched and the horses whinnied in distress as a low voiced growl echoed. _Found you._

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't think I'm capable of writing something anymore that doesn't have a bit of mystery to it. So let's get this story really started. ;)

"Once more into the breach then tomorrow?*" Aramis draped himself over a rail near their customary table. 

 

Athos arched an eyebrow at Aramis as he finished the dregs of his wine, "It's palace guard duty, Aramis, not warfare."

 

"And you are spending way too much time at the theater," d'Artagnan grinned as he slanted a glance at the marksman from his place at Athos' side. "Dare we guess why?"

 

Aramis put on a look of mock affront as he sat beside them, "Just because you louts have no interest in culture..."

 

Porthos cackled as he clapped the medic on the back, "Sure, it's culture t'at you went for. And not the pretty wrench who does the costumes." 

 

"We need more wine," Athos stood decisively, "Torment Aramis at the Crown."

 

"I could eat," Porthos' grin widened as d'Artagnan rolled his eyes.

 

"Porthos, you can always eat." The good natured ribbing went on all the way to the pub and the glow of it warmed Athos almost more than the fire. The pub's wine was good and with his brothers around him, Athos found himself as relaxed as he could imagine himself being.

 

Across the crowded room, a half dozen guardsmen were finishing their food. An equal number of empty bottles lay scattered over the table but the men hardly noticed or cared. 

 

"So this is how you spend your evenings?" 

 

The voice from the shadows startled the men of the red guard into a clumsy sort of attention as they recognized the gilded tunic of rank from the dark corner. They were waved back down with a flick of his hand, the black leather of fine gloves gleaming in the firelight as the right hand rested on his sword. He wore his hat even inside the pub and between the brim and the shadows from the firelight, his face remained lost to them.

 

But the hardness of his voice cut through the pleasant fog the alcohol had left and when he spoke, it seemed almost a command. "I would think men of the Red Guard could find some way to spend their time better suited to cleaning up the scum of this city." The gloved hand gestured again and the men looked to see a cluster of familiar leather clad musketeers. 

 

Porthos was already shuffling his deck of cards when he spotted the wall of red moving their way. The man gave a wolfish grin as he called to the others, "Looks like someone's offering to be our entertainment for the evening."

 

D'Artagnan matched his grin, twirling his dinner knife in a way that boded well for no one. Both men tensed to stand before Athos' voice gave them pause, "Wait!" The older man grabbed the fresh bottles on the table, moving them to the bench beside him before waving, "Continue."

 

Dark eyes twinkled at him and he quirked the side of his lip in response before d'Artagnan was moving, his knife already flickering through the air. 

 

It was only later as they were walking back to the Garrison, wine and triumph a heady mixture in their veins, that it occurred to Athos to wonder if there was a reason the guardsmen had started that particular fight. But the thought was fleeting, especially with d'Artagnan bright and shining at his side. He let it slip away and groaned with the rest when Porthos gave a sly grin before launching into song, "A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing. His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow. When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling, And asked if to work in her forge he would go."* Aramis cackled before joining in on the chorus, slinging his arm over Porthos' shoulder, while d'Artagnan's laughter echoed over the cobblestones.

 

There'd be time enough to consider the actions of the red guard later.

+++

 

A sennight passed on guard duty at the Palace, with nothing more exciting than the challenge of staying awake on duty. 

 

"I feel like some theater is in order tonight." Aramis pondered as the three scanned the Palace gardens for trouble while d'Artagnan finished 'fencing' with the King. The younger man was the King's consistent favorite for practice, a fact the rest greatly appreciated, but fortunately for d'Artagnan, he tired quickly. 

 

Porthos chuckled, shaking his head at the King's clumsy salute before breaking into low laughter, "Athos, you owe me a livre. I told you he couldn't make it another night." 

 

Athos scowled, flipping the coin to the bigger man as they dutifully followed the royal party back towards the palace. The scowl deepened with concern as he watched d'Artagnan swing his arms as they walked towards him, stretching the tight muscles banded over his shoulders. It had been nearly a year since they had retrieved d'Artagnan from the tower where he had been tortured. And though the wounds had healed and the muscles repaired, some after effects still lingered, and every reminder kindled the shadow of rage in Athos' chest. 

 

But the ones who had done the damage were dead and d'Artagnan was there in front of him, dark eyes clear and full of promise.

 

Athos' luck being what it was, he was hardly surprised when that was the moment screams rang out. 

 

The Musketeers broke into a run, drawing their weapons with the fluidity of long practice. They burst into the King's chambers primed for battle only to be faced with the red faced fury of the King as he screeched, pointing at his bed, "Look!"

 

D'Artagnan moved forward and prodded the severed snake on the bed with his sword as the others searched the chambers. The snake must have been 15 feet long alive and though he didn't recognize it as a poisonous creature, it's splayed and decimated remains made a gory tableaux that couldn't be recognized as anything other than a threat. 

 

With no immediate attackers to be found, Porthos and Aramis guided the King out of the room, "Find whoever did this! Find them!"

 

The royal shrieking echoed from the hall as d'Artagnan joined Athos at the door. The footman he'd cornered looked pathetically grateful as the Gascon walked up, stammering, "I don't... don't know... how... how it g-g-got there. No... no one... Outside th-the staff's... been n-near." 

 

"You must have seen something," Athos bit out.

 

D'Artagnan slid between the two men easily, turning Athos and moving him towards the hall. The hallway rang with the slap of hasty boots on the floor as a handful of the perimeter guard arrived, summoned by the commotion, and Athos detailed them to guard the room with a few short angry gestures.

 

"Someone must have seen something," Athos growled, hand still clenching on the hilt of his sword as flinty eyes looked over the chambers. "Someone didn't just walk into the palace with a serpent that big and go unseen."

 

D'Artagnan grimaced as he tilted his head, looking back at the gory mess of a bed, "Maybe not. It was hard to tell but it looked like it was cut into three chunks."

 

Blue eyes sharpened, "You think that was for transportation and not part of the message?"

 

"Who knows?" d'Artagnan shrugged as by silent agreement, they turned to the hall. "Could be both. But it would make it easier to stuff in a sack and move about unseen."

 

Porthos and Aramis were waiting for them outside a room that was now bristling with Musketeers. The echoes of the King's hysterics could be heard through the door along with Treville's comforting baritone but none of them made any move to enter. 

 

"What do you have?" Aramis asked as they huddled outside the door.

 

"Nothing," Athos shook his head, hand flexing on the hilt of his sword, "The footmen on the door saw no one."

 

"Or at least no one they remember," d'Artagnan added, chewing on his lip as he looked absently down the hall. Catching the quirk of Aramis' brow, he filled them in his thoughts about how an intruder could have snuck in the grisly message. 

 

"We'd be looking for a laundress, likely," Aramis mused, "Or a groundskeeper... Even a footman could be seen with a bundle of sheets..."

 

Porthos hummed under his breath. "'dat would make it easy to go unseen. No one notices servants."

 

"Which means we have a good idea of the how," Athos ran a hand through his hair as he shook his head, "But no idea on the who."

 

D'Artagnan's gaze trailed off into the distance again, "And maybe more important, the why." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * Just as a fun note of trivia, Henry the V is believed to have been completed around 1599. There's performances credited to the play in the 1620's. Between the two, I think it's safe to say it could have been seen in Paris in the right time period.   
>  * this is an honest to god chorus from a 17th century bawdy song called the Lusty Young Smith. Lyrics can be found here: http://www.horntip.com/mp3/1700s/1700ca--1998_bawdy_songs_of_old_england__ed_mccurdy_(CD)/02_a_lusty_young_smith.htm English or not, I can see Porthos loving that one.


End file.
